


When A Play Goes Right

by FelixHaase



Category: The Play That Goes Wrong - Lewis & Sayer & Shields
Genre: Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixHaase/pseuds/FelixHaase
Summary: Exactly what it sounds like: One of the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society's plays actually goes right.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	When A Play Goes Right

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea I thought would be great to play around with, but needless to say, it probably wouldn't be very funny to watch. So I'm writing it instead.

For something close to a decade now, the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society has been known as the worst amateur theatre group in all of Great Britain, and possibly the world. They are not merely incompetent; they are cursed. Every production, every performance, every attempt they have made to create something approaching theatre has gone horribly, terribly wrong. Their actors are incompetent, their sets fall apart, their direction is a joke and their choice of plays is horrendous. They are doomed to fail. And yet the society's perseverance in seeing every play through to the end has brought them, not _fame_ , exactly, but an odd kind of perverse admiration. 

Once, however, something happened to Cornley Polytechnic that was completely and utterly unexpected: one of their performances went off without a hitch. 

The play in question was titled _Six Gentlemen_ , an obscure slow-burner drama about a company on the verge of bankruptcy. As usual, Cornley's director, Chris Bean, had selected it not because it was particularly good, but because the rights to produce it were cheap. He argued that this would free up more money for the set and costumes, and in a way he was right; both were of much higher quality than usual. The costumes were all eighties-styled suits, and the set was simple, consisting only of a boardroom with chairs around a large conference table and a corporate office with desks and typewriters. The two spaces were separated by a wall with an empty doorframe; Cornley had learned their lesson about the unreliability of doors on stage long ago. There were no moving parts; no revolves or sliding portions, nothing on wheels, nothing that could fall. Everything had been built at the right size and the right angle. Proud of such a technical achievement, Chris had declared the set foolproof at the beginning of rehearsals, only to be proved a fool when Robert had tripped during a dress rehearsal and smashed the boardroom table in half. The table was fixed, with the stage manager Trevor adding in several wood beams to reinforce it, but Chris's confidence was not so easily repaired. 

The night before the play was set to open, he found himself sitting in his office, exhausted and unable to think about anything other than the inevitable disaster waiting for all of them. For him, mostly. As the director, it was up to Chris to take the blame for anything that went wrong, and right now, that seemed to be just about everything. He groaned, let his head fall forward onto the desk with a _thunk_ , and screamed into the wood without opening his mouth. 

Much better.

Outburst complete, he forced himself back upright, and picked up the notes he had written during the day's final rehearsal. He read through them in order. _Table needs repairs_ ; he crossed that one off. One less thing to worry about, he supposed. _Dennis forgot lines again_ ; as always, their cast member Dennis had just about memorized the entire script before forgetting every word the moment rehearsals started. It was largely a matter of stage fright; when Dennis felt like there was pressure on him, he panicked. Chris had tried every method he could think of to help the man, but nothing had seemed to work. On the opposite side of the coin, of course, was Max, who was a genuinely competent actor but craved attention like a child. His gawking at the audience had gotten better over time, but it still rubbed Chris the wrong way. They were supposed to act professional, for God's sake; theatre was a serious business! No one seemed to understand that. Not even Robert, despite his insistence that he was better than everyone else, or Sandra with her delusions of fame. Well, they were famous all right. Famous for being the worst theatre company in all of England, for being humiliated on national television again and again, for being mocked by every last critic who deigned to see their shows. God, Chris was sick of it. He'd had enough. One more bad show and he might as well quit for good. 

The night of the show was upon them, and Chris dreaded every moment. Even from backstage he could hear the chatter of voices, some loud, some soft, punctuated by bursts of laughter here and there. He knew full well that the majority of people who came to see a Cornley Polytechnic play were there to laugh at it, and he hated that. This might be a joke to them, but it wasn't to him. No one seemed to respect that.

God, what was even the point?

Cast and crew passed him in a bustle of activity, but Chris stood there like a statue, lost in thought. He had a _very_ long vacation to Mallorca half planned in his head when he noticed Dennis pacing back and forth down the hallway, and he was snapped right back into the present moment. Dennis was made up but only halfway in costume, and there was a script clutched tightly in his hands. He was staring at it as though it could save his life. Panic was written all across his face, and when the five-minute call came over the intercom, Dennis just about jumped out of his skin. 

Chris's legs were moving before he even knew it was happening, and he made his way down the hallway, desperately trying to think of what he could even do in this situation. Other actors passed him by, and Robert gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder, but Chris could only mumble vague words of encouragement in return. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of Dennis that he even remembered to blink.

"Hey, Chris," Dennis said, his eyes fixed on the ground as though apologizing. "I think I know my lines this time. Most of them, anyway. Some of them... Maybe."

Chris sighed, a long, drawn out sigh that bordered on a laugh by the end, and slowly began to put words to what he was thinking. 

"Dennis... it doesn't matter to me if you forget a word here and there.... or, even, all of them." 

Dennis's eyes finally met his.

"Just focus on the play, the emotions, the characters. That's what's important. If you forget your lines, just say what feels right to you. The audience isn't here to judge you, they're here to appreciate a story." 

Max had come up behind Dennis and stopped to listen in. Chris addressed his last statement to both of them.

"Act like the audience isn't even there. It's the story of the play that matters, not them."

Maybe there was hope for the performance after all, Chris thought as both men considered what he'd said. Maybe there was hope for all of them.

"Break a leg, boys."

It was... perfect. The play was perfect. The entire performance, from beginning to end, felt flawless. From the moment the lights went up and he stepped out on stage, Chris could feel the difference in the room. The raucous crowd hushed, and every eye was on him. It was the magic of theatre. Story threads unfolded slowly, carefully across the stage, building and weaving as the play went on until everything went crashing down as the story hit its climax. Beautiful. This was what Chris did it for, why he so obligingly tolerated every bad word thrown at him and every obstacle life put in his way. For this. Being on stage, bringing stories to life. And this one time, this one so desperately needed time, nothing went wrong to stop them. No props malfunctioned, no cues were missed; not a single member of the crew had even had to come on stage. The acting was strong and emotional. Not once did Robert or Sandra overact or chew the scenery. Not once did Max break character or grin at the audience. Most impressively of all, Dennis remembered every word, and in fact his performance was so well done that Chris couldn't believe that the man in front of him was the same Dennis he knew. It was incredible.

As the cast took their bows, many of them exchanging glances that expressed shock and incredulous joy, Chris watched them with pride. This was why he did it. Despite the grueling hours, the blood, sweat, and tears along the way, the results were something else. Cornley was an amazing group of people, wonderful, crazy, stupid, amazing people, and they meant more to him than he could say. He couldn't dream of being anywhere else. He would stick with them.

Even if they did screw up sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Felix


End file.
